Sherlock and the pearl
by Ohthatfangirl
Summary: Not going to give to much away but... Odette Johnson is just a normal kid when one day her life gets turned upside down and she ends up crossing paths with a certain consulting detective. But how much danger is she actually in? No slash.
1. Chapter 1

**Hello! I got really stuck on wholock so I started a new story… this is just Sherlock. I don't own Sherlock, just Odette and the plot. Please review and tell me if I should keep writing it. Thanks!**

'What am I doing?' were the words going through Odette Johnson's head. Her life had never really been that interesting, just the same old story everyone had heard before; her parents died when she was young so she had ended up in a care home with a bunch of other 'unfortunates', repeating the same routine over and over. Get up, get dressed, eat breakfast, go to school, come back, eat tea, go to bed. Nothing special at all... until now.

Well technically until two days ago. That was when her life changed dramatically. She'd been minding her own business at Bramley House care home, just sitting down and using up her computer time, when she came across something interesting. There was a story about a pearl. It was said to be a present for the Queen on the millennium, very imaginatively called 'The Millennium Pearl' and was worth around £20 million. What was most interesting though was the fact that it was destroyed in the blitz of world war two. As she started to dig deeper, she found out that maybe that wasn't the case at all. However, her investigating did not go unnoticed; someone was watching her every move and decided to get in touch. Earlier in the day, Odette had received a text from an unknown number.

_The sewers. Baker Street. Come and play._

Now, Odette wasn't usually foolish enough to listen to such texts. But right now her interest had peaked and she was up for anything. All common sense gone, she decided to explore this further. So here she was, Odette Johnson, preparing to run away in the middle off the night to visit the sewers.

'What am I doing?' she stared at herself in the mirror. For a 15 year old girl, she was quite beautiful and mature. She had wavy brown hair that went down to her waist and very pretty blue eyes. Her best friend Milly was always telling her how beautiful she was, but she never listened. Odette had the self confidence of a tiny mouse and usually kept herself to herself. But Milly was different. Milly was always there when she needed a friend. On Milly's very first day in the care home, they didn't get on very well at all. They were complete opposites; Millie, the talkative, hilarious one. And Odette, the quite, shy one. However, once they started talking they found out that actually they had quite a lot in common.

Odette was going to leave a note for her best friend, telling her where she was, but she was hoping she'd be back at the house before anyone missed her.

Putting on her black jacket and picking up a torch, she set off. Slowly, she slid a hair pin out of her hair and straightened it until it was just one thin piece of metal. She opened her bedroom door carefully and listened out for any signs of movement. On tiptoe, she carried on down the landing and started on the stairs… CREAK!

She froze and held her breath, expecting Judy the head care worker, to come and yell at her for being out of bed after lights out. But no one came. She exhaled and continued her descent. Once down the stairs she crept past the kitchen and the living room until she reached the front door. Using the hair pin, she managed to pick the lock and it clicked open.

'Not very secure…' she muttered to herself with a smirk before stepping out the door and onto the street. Only the metal fence to go. She chucked her bag over before hitching herself on the top of the railings and carefully jumping down.

Her mind was still telling herself to go back, she didn't know who this person was… they might be dangerous… this might be a trap. But she was bored of being Odette; the good, quiet little girl with the tragic life story and the shy personality. No… that's not who she wanted to be anymore. So she hailed a cab and told the driver to take her to Baker Street.

. . .

'You're going where?' John Watson was, once again, totally confused.

Sherlock rolled his eyes 'The sewers John, you really need your ears testing.'

A few minutes ago Sherlock Holmes had been bored, but now his interest had been peaked.

'Okay… why?' John asked tentatively. Sherlock put on his coat and scarf then pulled his phone out of his pocket and showed his flat mate the text.

_The sewers. Baker Street. Come and play._

John looked at the text and furrowed his brows. 'Right… who's that from then?'

'I have absolutely no idea.' Sherlock smirked. As much as it annoyed him to be in the dark about things, he did enjoy a good mystery. A new game to play. When he had first gotten the text, he tried to trace the number, but whoever this was, they were too clever for that… and criminals with brains were all the more fun.

'Great, that's just great!' John said sarcastically as he went over to grab his coat.

'Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit John.' Sherlock told him 'Are you coming with me?'

John finished putting his coat on and scoffed 'Of course! I'm not letting you go down to the sewers on your own, especially not a 2 in the morning.'

The corner of Sherlock's mouth turned up in a small smile. He liked the John always seemed to worry about him. Even though he thought it was a little childish and that he was perfectly capable of looking after himself.

**Thank you for reading! Please review and stuff… oh and for those that are reading my wholock story, I shall TRY to get the next chapter up soon. Till the next time x**


	2. Chapter 2

**HULLO! Wow. I had honestly given up on this story. Really... I had. But I was sitting here doing nothing and though... what the heck... I may as well write some more Odette. So... HERE WE GO!**

_**Odette's POV**_

I was scared out of my wits. Just the thought of being seen by anyone in the sewers had me shivering, never mind a murderer or something! What if I met a policeman and he asked me what I was doing there? My mind was whirring at double speed, trying to think up excuses but I wasn't used to it… I was always the good one; I didn't see any need to disobey the rules so why did I decide to do so then? Well, I was fed up. I was fed up of being teased at school 'Teacher's pet! Teacher's pet!'

No.

I was fed up of only my best friend understanding me.

'Why won't you play truth or dare with us, Odette? You're such a wimp!'

No.

You see, it's not that I'm a wimp; I just know that breaking the rules can get people hurt. That's what happened to my parents. My parents went against the rules and it got them killed.

But I know for a fact that they were happy, I remember that much. So my plan was to perhaps bend some rules in order to be happy… without getting killed of course.

It made sense in my head at the time.

The smell of the sewers was more horrific than you could ever imagine. It just… stunk. That was the only word to describe it. I'd never smelt something so terrible in my whole life. The bile started to gurgle up my throat and I had to gag several times before I got used to it.

What was I even looking for?

I was, in fact, about to turn back when I felt something wet drip on my head and I stopped walking.

My nose scrunched up at the thought of having sewage water in my hair… but it was worse than that. I reached up and touched the wet patch before bringing my hand back down. My eyes widened as I saw what it was. Red. Sticky. Blood.

The first instinct that came to me was to look up. Find the source. But that sensible brain that had overpowered me for all these years, told me to run. Get the hell out of there. And never look back.

However, my curiosity overwhelmed me, and I lifted my torch so that the beam shone on the roof of the sewers.

You have no idea how much I wish I hadn't. I should have listened to my head and ran. But I didn't.

There, on the rounded roof of the sewers were the words:

'You should learn to mind your own business, Odette.'

It was written in blood.

It took everything inside of me to not scream with shock. The blood was wet and fresh, hence the drip on my hair.

My feet were taking me backwards and I didn't even realise it. That was, until I tripped. Tripped and fell. Over something big. Well bigger than me at any rate. But what I didn't realise at the time, was that that little trip... would change my life forever.

_**Third person**_

Splash. Splash. Splash. Splash. Splash.

This was ridiculous. They had no clue what they were looking for. All they had was a simple text. That was it. Why were they even there? Well... because of Sherlock, that's why. Anyone else would ignore a text like that. But not Sherlock Holmes, oh no... he took it as a challenge. And he never failed to rise to a challenge.

Splash. Splash. Splash. Splash.

Ugh. The smell of sewage water. And the fact that the sewage water was drenching their shoes and splashing onto their trousers. Ugh.

Sherlock took little care, of course. He had drowned it all out, putting all of his concentration into looking for anything interesting... or anyone interesting.

John, however, was a different story. He could not stand it. He had wanted to leave from the moment they had stepped into the sewers. Honestly, he did not see why they were down here. It was a Sunday for goodness sake. John liked Sundays. It was his day of relaxation. Well... as far as 'relaxation' went when you had Sherlock Holmes for a flat mate.

Letting out a breath that he had been holding in, John sighed.

"Sherlock. We've been looking for nearly an hour now. It was probably just a prank text or something. Some kids messing about. I think we should maybe... you know... be logical about this and perhaps-"

But Sherlock cut him off by shushing him. He had stopped walking and put an arm out to stop John in his tracks too.

John looked at him questioningly, but said nothing.

Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip.

And then he heard it. The splashing. The running. Getting further away.

SplashSplashSplashSplashSpla sh.

Before John could even registered what was happening, Sherlock had set off in pursuit. Dashing through the sewage water as quick as he could, a determined expression on his face, coat billowing out behind him, as he raced after whoever it was running from the sewers.

"Sherlock! Wait!"

John tried to keep up with him but the detective was just too fast and the smell and the claustrophobia of the tunnels and it was all making his head spin.

So, he stopped running and put his hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath. When he looked up, he saw that Sherlock had disappeared round a corner and there was just the splashing of his footfalls left behind.

"God dammit." John muttered to himself.

Why did this always happen?

His breath was coming in quick gasps as he turned his head to one side.

And then he saw it.

He squinted slightly and straightened up, shining his torchlight to the side.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

"Oh god." he whispered.

Because there, on the floor in front of him... was the body of a woman. A woman with short blonde hair. She would have been quite pretty, he supposed... had her face not been covered in blood and sewage water.

John moved towards her and bent down, a sad expression on his face. He was about to examine the body, when something caught his eye.

A torch.

Just a simple torch.

He leaned over and picked it up, turning it round in his hands with a frown.

Why a torch? Surely the killer wouldn't have been foolish enough to leave their torch right beside the body.

John pursed his lips and his eyes flickered down to the water at his feet, which had now calmed from lack of movement. Calmed so much, in fact, that he could see the roof of the sewage tunnel in the reflection.

And he did a double-take. Because...were there... /words/ written on the roof?

Quickly, he shined his torch upwards and tilted his head, standing up as he did so.

Writing. Writing in blood.

'You should learn to mind your own business, Odette.'

"Odette." The low baritone voice of his flatmate, nearly made John jump out of his skin.

"Jesus, Sherlock! How bloody long have you been standing there?!"

The detective was standing right behind him and raised an eyebrow.

"Not long. They were too far ahead. By the time I got to the exit, whoever it was had already disappeared."

He answered wearily before frowning and eyeing the extra torch in John's hand.

"But it looked like they left something behind." He tutted. "How careless."

Sherlock snatched it from John's hand, earning him a glare from the shorter man.

"So... the torch? Well... who's is it then?" John asked, looking slightly confused. "The killer?"

With a sigh, Sherlock looked at his flatmate with a look of over-exaggerated disappointment on his face.

"No, John. As usual, you are imperceptive. No, no...the killer left here a while ago. Meaning this torch."

He held it up in the air, waving it slightly.

"Belongs to Odette."

John nodded slowly. "Right. And... who is she?"

"Oh, I don't know." A slight smirk tugged at one corner of his mouth. "But I'm going to find out."

**Oooo. Well... thanks for reading! But here's the deal... I will only carry this on if it gets at least five more reviews. Because then I know you're enjoying what I write. If you do not enjoy it... then what is the point in writing? So yes... look at that nice empty box, just waiting for a review. You don't have to write an essay, I just want to know if I should continue or if there is no point.**

**THANK YOU!**

**Scarlett x**


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